


Distractions & Determinations

by snitchnipped



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 14:15:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16087784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snitchnipped/pseuds/snitchnipped
Summary: “Sweet mother, I cannot weave – slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl.” — Sappho.  The determined (and distracted) mind of Lucy Pevensie on a Saturday afternoon in the library.  Written for the 2018 Narnia Fic Exchange.





	Distractions & Determinations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starbrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbrow/gifts).



St. John’s College, Cambridge, UK. September 13, 1947.

“Any luck, my dear?”

Lucy jerked up straight in her seat, embarrassed to have been caught daydreaming — again— in such a public place. Especially by this particular librarian, a personal friend of Polly’s, who Lucy had already put through the wringer today. Several days, actually. 

Maybe it wasn’t full out daydreaming… after all, she was fully conscious and in the moment. Distraction, that was it. Lucy’s eyes wandered around the stuffy library, but the object of her wistful gaze had disappeared somewhere around the botanical section.

“Oh, ah… no, not yet, Mrs. Cox,” she hastily replied, haphazardly folding the brittle newspaper she was holding. 

The older woman smiled and gave Lucy a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Are you for certain you have the correct year? Perhaps we should go further back in the stacks. Perhaps it was in 1896?”

Lucy sighed. They had already gone through everything—newspapers, magazines, and any other periodical she could get her fingers one—from the years 1900-1905, and had started working backwards into the previous century, but it was to no avail. The records she was looking for were just not there. If they even existed at all. 

Perhaps a telephone directory, Lucy thought. Did they have telephone directories back then, though? And what good would one be with no known surnames…

The idea that they may have been forever forgotten in this world was a sad one. No, Lucy would not give up. She refused.

“I think I need to call it a day,” Lucy replied. “Even if I did find anything of note, I’d probably accidentally pass right over it out of shear exhaustion.”

The librarian nodded, the chain of her bifocals rattling. “I’ve been there myself. Would you mind if I restock these?”

Lucy smiled up at her. “No, go right ahead. And thank you. Again.”

“No need to thank me, Miss Pevensie,” Mrs. Cox said with a concerned eye at that haphazard pile of papers spread all over the table. “It’s a pleasure helping with life’s mysteries. Shall I ring up Ms. Plummer for you? I still have her number from last time.”

Lucy turned to look at clock on the east wall, and saw — was that? 

Indeed, the object of her prior daydream (distraction) was now sitting directly under the clock, a rather large tome open, elbows firmly planted on the heavy oak table, and mouth moving slightly. Lucy could hear the slight murmuring of the reader reading aloud to herself. It was an endearing sight, and Lucy felt a smile coming to her face at the sight of it.

“Miss Pevensie?”

Lucy jerked, causing the old yellowed newspaper to tear slightly in her hands. “Oh! Oh, goodness… I am… I am so sorry!” she cried, much too loudly for a library. Out of the corner of Lucy’s eye, the reader under the clock glanced up at Lucy’s exclamation and gave a slight smile of amusement.

The librarian’s own smile, however, slipped. “Yes, well… why don’t you hand those to me, dear. Before anything should happen to them. Anything further, that is,” she added as she began to tackle the mess Lucy had made over the previous three hours.

“Yes, yes… of course. I am so sorry. And no, I’m meeting Polly in the café on the corner in—” she caught herself from looking at the clock again. No use getting anymore distracted. “Soon. Very soon.”

The librarian delicately stacked the last of the newspapers. “Very well. Better luck next time, yes?”

“Yes, next time,” Lucy murmured, her gaze returning to the girl under the clock.

She had to have only been slightly older than Lucy… the setting sun through the blue stained glass window cast the girl’s curled chestnut hair into a purple glow. And she was still smiling, though her attention had once again returned to her book… but those dimples transported Lucy to another time, another place. She could feel the sea breeze through her hair, the taste of salt on her lips, the sense of adventure oozing into her heart.

A warm flush started from within and Lucy could feel it rush to her cheeks. The hunt for information of King Frank and Queen Helen and their mysterious disappearance from the streets of London in 1903, or 1899, or whenever it was would certainly have to wait for another day. Lucy did not mind… she had all the time of the world, even more so if it meant having the company of the unknown girl as a fellow frequent visitor to the library on Saturday afternoons before the term started.

Recollections of soft lips and softer caresses from when she had been older and had access to all the secret nooks and crannies (and libraries, Lucy thought) that Cair Paravel had provided… oh, those had been fun times, such fond memories…

And Lucy was finally at an age again to make some new memories. Finally.

Lucy had been a determined queen in Narnia, and she was bound to remain so in England as well. It mattered not whether it was hunting for lost records in dusty libraries, coaxing memories from absent-minded Elephants, cheering up older brothers… Lucy saw things to the end, and if not until then, until after every single avenue was exhausted. 

And Lucy was not even remotely exhausted. 

Lucy holstered her bag over her shoulder and needlessly smoothed down the front of her jumper and plaid skirt. Lifting her chin proudly as befitting a young queen, she promptly marched towards the girl, determined once and for all befriend this lovely, enigmatic creature. Perhaps more, she thought to herself. Never mind the stuffiness of English propriety. There was no place for that in a Queen of Narnia. 

“Hello,” she piped out. “My name is Lucy. What is yours?”

The girl’s smile widened, dimples deepening, and Lucy felt herself falling.

“Sweet mother, I cannot weave –

slender Aphrodite has overcome me

with longing for a girl.” — Sappho.


End file.
